


the stand

by epsiloneridani



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, No established relationship, fox has a crush and doesn't know it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:00:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24113203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epsiloneridani/pseuds/epsiloneridani
Summary: It’ll be a simple assignment, they said.There are blaster bolts battering what’s left of the shuttle’s hull; the cockpit is on fire; the pilot is dead or dying; they’re pinned down by the enemy – and Senator Riyo Chuchi is doing her absolute damndest to get herself killed.--Fox escorts Chuchi on a diplomatic mission. It does not go according to plan.
Relationships: CC-1010 | Fox & CC-3636 | Wolffe, Riyo Chuchi/CC-1010 | Fox
Comments: 40
Kudos: 316





	the stand

It’ll be a simple assignment, they said.

There are blaster bolts battering what’s left of the shuttle’s hull; the cockpit is on fire; the pilot is dead or dying; they’re pinned down by the enemy – and Senator Riyo Chuchi is doing her absolute damndest to get herself killed.

“Senator,” Fox barks, for the second time in as many minutes. Chuchi’s braced against the durasteel slab beside him, clutching a Pantoran pistol to her chest. Her robes are tattered from crawling through the shuttle’s debris; her hair falls in wild ringlets around her face.

“I’m here!” Chuchi shouts back.

“Ma’am,” Fox says. “I need you to listen to me. You have to stay _behind me_.”

“They’re shooting at both of us,” Chuchi says. “I’m going to shoot back.”

It doesn’t surprise him at all that this woman is close friends with Amidala. They both have that stubborn glint in their eye: _let me fight_.

He’d appreciate the tenacity more if she wasn’t the target to begin with.

“Ma’am, you have to listen to me,” Fox says, a little more desperately than he means to. He can hear the droids advancing. So much for joining the Republic: Chuchi, specifically, was requested by the planet’s governor to negotiate the treaty.

It turned out to be a trap. Dimly, Fox is sure it has something to do with whatever bill she happens to be backing in the Senate right now.

As usual, someone wants her dead.

“I’m not going to hide behind you, Commander,” Chuchi says, and pops up to snap off a few shots. Fox grabs her arm and yanks her back down.

“Don’t do that, ma’am,” Fox says.

Her eyes seethe steel.

Senators live to make his life difficult.

Fox gives his equipment a once-over. He has two pistols, plenty of ammunition, four thermal detonators, and four droidpoppers. It should have been overkill for the diplomatic assignment he was given, but now, with four squads of droids approaching on foot, it seems woefully inadequate.

Their shuttle crashed in the middle of a grassy field. There’s no cover except for the wreckage itself.

“Do you have a plan?” Chuchi asks.

“They’re jamming all communications,” Fox says. “We can’t get a message out.”

“But you sent out a distress signal before they shot us down,” she says. “Surely someone nearby must have heard it.”

“The closest fleet is the 104th and the last time I checked, they were in the middle of an invasion. I don’t think they’ll have time to help us.”

Chuchi’s face is grim. She clutches her pistol tightly. “Then we’re on our own,” she says. Her voice is steady. “What are our odds, Commander?”

Terrible. “Fine.”

“Forgive my skepticism.”

Fox eases his head up just enough to steal a glance at the enemy lines. There are no tanks yet. The units are still marching in steady columns, firing straight ahead. The only advantage they might have is that there doesn’t seem to be a tactical droid anywhere in sight; the B1s and SBDs must have already received their orders. Without a much more advanced model to instruct them, they’re unlikely to alter their plan of attack.

Clearly the Separatists are relying on numbers, not strategy, to win the day. Fox can’t say he blames them. The planet’s military fighters shot the shuttle down and then departed. The Separatist units are just here to clean up the mess.

After all, a soldier and a Senator shouldn’t be too much trouble.

He can almost hear Jango in the back of his head – _you’re an ARC trooper: that makes you the best of the best_.

Fox drops back down. Chuchi’s staring at him expectantly.

“We’re dead,” she surmises dryly.

“No, ma’am,” Fox says. “Not yet.”

“What are we going to do?”

“You,” Fox says, “are going to stay here and lay down cover fire. Keep your head _down_ and keep your focus on the right flank. I don’t want to get hit by friendly fire.”

Chuchi’s eyes widen. “You’re going out there?”

Fox loads the detonators and droidpoppers into a pack and slings it over one shoulder. It’ll give him the freedom to retrieve one without having to stop. “I’m going to draw them left,” he says. “Once I start shooting, it’ll take them a minute to respond.”

“But then they’ll all be focused on you.”

“Not all,” Fox says. “It’s you they want dead.”

Chuchi gives him a wry smile. “I don’t suppose I could save us both if I went out there and told them I surrender.”

It seems to work well enough for General Kenobi. “No, ma’am,” Fox says. “They’d just execute you.”

She snorts at that. Under his helmet, Fox quirks a slight smile. “Wait for my signal,” he says, and crawls to the edge of their cover.

There was an exercise the Kaminoans used to make the command class do: they’d split the cadets into buddy pairs and then, pair by pair, put them through a failure scenario. You could blast all you wanted and take every evasive maneuver available to you, but eventually, you always got overrun. The goal wasn’t to beat the simulation; it was only to survive it for as long as you possibly could. The Kaminoans didn’t want to see what the cadets looked like when they were winning.

They wanted to see what they would do when they knew they were going to lose.

The pairs had varied, but more often than not, Fox had found himself back-to-back with Wolffe, facing down whatever nightmare enemy the Kaminoans had picked this time. For a second, he wishes he had Wolffe here now.

The 104th is close – but not close enough.

They’re on their own.

“Senator?” Fox calls.

“Ready.”

Fox takes a deep breath and maneuvers himself to his feet. “Mark,” he yells, and charges.

He rolls the droid poppers in quick succession. The left flank goes down in a smoking, sizzling hiss. Chuchi’s doing her job; the center and the right flank stay focused on her position. Fox feels a flash of admiration.

They’re not dead yet.

At first, the droids aren’t sure what’s hitting them and keep marching stupidly forward. Then one notices, and another, and slowly, in a staggered wave, they begin to turn.

There’s no natural cover out here.

The droids will do well enough.

Fox lunges into their midst, snapping three quick blasts into the closest SBD. He jams his gauntlet into the seething metal, braces the frame in front of him like a shield, and barrels into the closest line. They stumble over one another and he forces them the rest of the way down even as he whips two thermal detonators in the direction of the heaviest fire.

The blasts rattle his teeth.

His shield is already failing. The blaster bolts pound into it, pushing him back. Fox braces behind it and fire – fires – fires.

Only two detonators left.

The remaining droids have turned away from Chuchi’s position and focused their full attention on Fox. They’re too close for grenades to be safe, but if he doesn’t do something soon, he’ll lose the choice: Chuchi can only take out so many from behind. Fox crouches behind what’s left of the SBD and rolls the last two detonators.

The explosion blows him off his feet. For a brief and terrifying second he’s weightless; then he hits the apex of his shallow arc and slams into the ground. His breath leaves his lungs in a rush. His ears are ringing.

There’s a droid hovering directly above him.

Fox blasts its head off.

Stumblingly, he gets to his feet. The rest of the droids lie in sparking ruin all around him.

It’s done.

“Senator?” Fox calls.

“Here!” Chuchi yells back. He catches a glimpse of her, peeking over the wreckage. She waves one hand over her head.

He doesn’t have the time to answer her. There’s a deafening roar, rising in volume and strength until it’s right overhead. Fox barely has the time to cry _Get down!_ before he’s hunching forward to make himself a smaller target and throwing his arms over his head.

The fighters screech by so close Fox feels the rush of their passing like a brutal wind. The earth around him explodes with the force of their firepower. He makes himself freeze – stay – breathe – hold – pray.

When the air stills and the whining fades, he lifts his gaze.

The fighters are specks on the horizon, already spinning to circle back around. They’re not his primary concern.

There’s small army of droids marching toward them: two full platoons and a line of five tanks.

“ _Shab_ ,” Fox hisses. He grips his pistols uselessly. Lot of good they’ll do him against that. Maybe he should have saved some of the thermal detonators.

Someone really wants Riyo Chuchi dead.

“Senator,” Fox says. “Run.”

“I’m not just going to leave you here to face them alone,” Chuchi shoots back. “And besides, what about the fighters?”

“You’ll have a better chance of evading the fighters than surviving a tank blast to the face, ma’am.”

“There’s nowhere to go,” she says. She steps up to stand at his side. He wants to sigh. “I’m staying. If I’m going to die, I’m going to die fighting.”

“Officially,” Fox says, “I have to protest.”

“Then protest,” Chuchi says, and even though she’s staring down the grim reality of her own death, a smile still lights her face. It makes Fox’s heart twist in a way he doesn’t understand. “It’s an honor to be at your side, Commander.”

“For however long it lasts, Senator,” Fox says. He glances around; it’s futile he knows: he’s searching for cover that doesn’t exist.

The shuttle still has live fuel cells. Hiding inside it had been a necessary risk during the first wave, but ultimately excusable. The fighters give the droids access to much more versatile firepower. If Fox and Chuchi huddle inside the shuttle’s shell again and try to hold out, the fighters will just shell them from the sky until they blow up the fuel cells and incinerate them. It was nothing short of sheer luck that the first strafing run failed.

There’s no way the second will.

“Stay behind me,” Fox says.

“Not a chance.”

The army is closer, closer. The fighters are bearing down. Fox raises his pistols and braces. Beside him, Chuchi follows suit.

There are worse ways to go.

The sky breaks open in a thundercrack shriek. Fox throws himself over Chuchi and sends them both tumbling to the ground. The shriek is louder, closer, gone, and for a second Fox is sure he’s just failed to register the pain, but then he lifts his head and he knows.

The Jedi starfighter’s nose is emblazoned with a wolf.

Chuchi pushes at him. Fox straightens and helps her stand. “What is it?” she asks urgently. “What’s happening?”

“The 104th is here,” Fox says. Beyond her, a gunship is touching down. Wolffe waves his arms over his head wildly – _hurry, hurry, let’s go_. “Follow me, ma’am.”

They sprint to the gunship. Fox hauls Chuchi inside. The doors rattle closed, and the gunship lifts off. Fox makes sure Chuchi is secure, then takes hold of the rail overhead.

“Thanks for the save,” Fox says. He feels weak with relief. Wolffe knocks their helmets together.

“I’m always pulling your _shebs_ out of the fire,” he says.

“That’s not true and you know it.”

“What was your plan down there, _exactly?_ ” Wolffe asks.

Fox shoves him. “Just accept my sincere thanks,” he says. “And shut up.”

Wolffe laughs and shoves him. Fox can’t find it in himself to be mad.

Once they set foot on the command ship, Fox barely has time to sleep. He gives his report to approximately fifteen people that have the clearance to demand it and don’t need it and two people that are actually relevant. By the time the shuttle drops Fox and Chuchi off at a Senate landing pad on Coruscant, all he wants to do is head back to the barracks and collapse into his bunk.

“I’ll see you later, _vod_ ,” Wolffe says quietly, and squeezes his shoulder. Fox nods tiredly, and steps back to let the gunship take off again. When he turns, Chuchi is still standing there.

“What you did was very brave,” Chuchi says.

Fox snorts. “What I did was my _job_ , ma’am,” he says. “Nothing more.”

“Still,” she insists. “I owe you my thanks.”

Fox tugs off his helmet and tucks it under his arm. Her eyes shine, wide and beautiful and kind. His heartbeat pulses up, up. His breath catches in his throat. It takes him a moment to remember how to properly speak.

“And I owe you mine,” Fox says.

She looks genuinely confused. “Why?”

“For staying,” Fox says.

“Oh.” Her cheeks flush. “Well, like you said. Just doing my job.”

“Senator,” Fox chides. “It’s my job to protect _you_ , not the other way around.”

She makes a skeptical face. “I did blast a lot of droids,” she points out. “Surely that counts for something.”

“A diversion?”

It earns him something like a laugh. His heart twists again. “I suppose,” she allows. “You did eliminate most of them yourself…this time.”

“Ma’am, with any luck, there won’t be a _next time_ ,” Fox says, though he’s sure there will be: she and Amidala are tied for assassination attempts made in the last month. “But if there is, please—”

“Stay behind you? Not a chance.”

“At least allow me to escort you to your debriefing, ma’am,” Fox says.

For a breath of a moment, Fox is sure it won’t be a battle or a bounty hunter that kills him. No, when he goes, it will be because of that beaming smile.

“Commander,” she says, and takes his arm. “I would like nothing better.”

\--


End file.
